


Please don't say it out loud

by PessimisticLatte (itwasamistakeokay)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Beau's dad is a dick, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Canon Gay Character, Developing Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Homophobia, M/M, Mighty Nein, Multi, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Regency Romance, Useless Lesbians, Wildemount (Critical Role), beau and caleb are platonic soulmates, being gay isn't considered a thing, gay relationships, mainly beauyashter, maybe slow burn idk, or almost everyone, regency lesbians, there will be porn eventually, they're lesbians harold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24693259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itwasamistakeokay/pseuds/PessimisticLatte
Summary: Beauregard Lionett didn't think that things could get this out of hand. The Duchess' pretty daughter chose her as a companion without even knowing her name but now she's crossing into territory she knows she shouldn't. How was she supposed to know that mischievous Jester Lavorre would ruin her?Along with Jester's personal bodyguard, Yasha, Beau is pulled into a whirlwind of mischief while she tries desperately not to fall in love with either the strong, silent bodyguard or the sweet, impish Duchess-to-be. As being gay is not widely accepted, Beau knows that falling for either of them could spell disaster but how could she stay away?Caleb Widogast is less worried about being caught with another man, he doesn't have a station to be concerned about but he's unsure of where his desired's attractions lie. Watching his best friend be tied in knots by Jester might just give him the courage he needs to address the growing emotion between himself and his dear friend, Essek Thelyss.Along with a stablehand, Jester's strangely clairvoyant cook, a perpetually drunk maid, and the most famous rake in Wildemount, will they be able to navigate these dangerous waters?
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre/Yasha, Shadowgast - Relationship, beauyashter - Relationship, jester lavorre/yasha/beauregard lionett
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	1. Mesmerised

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to chapter 1 of 'Please don't say it out loud'! 
> 
> This fic is set in a regency AU, many aspects revolving around the Victorian era. The story will remain in Exandria, with Wildemount being the main place and cities like Zadash, Nicodranas, Rexxentrum, Kamordah, Roshona, etc remaining within the story. 
> 
> As this fic is set in a regency AU, there is going to be some very blatant homophobia. I just want to warn readers now that it will be a thing and chapters will have a 'warning, homophobia' message in the notes at the beginning of the chapter to avoid accidentally triggering anyone. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for giving this chapter a read, I hope you enjoy it!

Beauregard Lionett had never been one for social gatherings, the stuffy rooms packed full of people she had little desire to converse with and the whalebone corset cinching her waist continually hindering her ability to move, to breathe and to avoid the horrifically boring conversations happening around her. This was the curse of high society though, her father had risen the ranks from a simple merchant to a lord favoured by the queen and now Beau was expected to fit the mould of the upper class women that surrounded her. Holding her wine flute in her hand as gently as she could, Beau pretended to listen to the dorning conversation the man to her right was attempting to make with the man to her left (she’d quite serendipitously forgotten both their names completely and was in no hurry to learn them) while admiring the well kept gardens beyond the ballroom.

She held little interest in the plant life, though she could categorise many of them from memory with a mere glance, and, instead, her thoughts wandered to galloping on horseback through the dense woods surrounding the manor. Nothing brought her joy like the sense of freedom that came with riding, to be atop such a strong beast and to be the master of her own destination was addictive. The Lionett estate had some of the most beautiful riding tracks Beau had ever traversed but her ability to explore them had begun to wane as her father’s insistence of marriage had begun to grow. More and more social engagements were thrust at her, probable suitors seeking to walk with young Lady Lionett and discuss what prospects they had to offer her; her time was slowly being eaten away by the pressure of high society.

Lifting her glass to her lips, Beauregard restrained herself to a mere sip of the bubbling liquid as the chiding words of her lady’s companion, Dairon, replayed in her mind. “We do not gulp, Miss Lionett, we sip. It is unladylike to be drunk and you should do well to remember that as your father is known for producing the finest wines in Wildemount, you would not want your drunkenness to tarnish his good name.” Sighing softly through her nose, Beau gave a weak, insincere smile to the men conversing around her; more of Dairon’s teachings repeating in her head. “Stand up perfectly straight or your corset will cut into your skin and you will look like a pauper. If strands of your hair come free from your chignon, do not touch them nor toy with them, seek a ladies maid to fix it for you immediately, your appearance is your father’s second strongest asset. Do not fiddle with your hands or with your gloves, men do not like a woman who cannot remain still. When you are asked to dance, you always accept but you must never dance to anything too lively lest your ankles become visible and you be labelled as a harlot. Do you understand me, Miss Lionett?”

Absentmindedly, Beau’s lips formed the word yes to Dairon’s remembered question.

“Splendid to know that you agree, Miss Lionett,” Snapping out of her reverie, Beau assessed the two men with clear eyes. They appeared to have asked her a question which she had unknowingly responded to, keeping her confusion to herself Beau took another sip of the wine in her hand.

“I’m sure your father holds the same views, does he not, Miss Lionett?” Beau had no idea what they were talking about, the entire conversation lost to her, so she nodded demurely and kept her scowl of annoyance at bay. Even when she was interested in holding a conversation with someone, it always turned to her father. How are the crops faring this year? Is it true that your mother is with child again? I should hope that it’s a son for your father! Where does your father stand on whatever political situation is occurring currently? Beau couldn’t care less about the questions she was continually asked on behalf of her father, if these men were so intent on knowing what Theroux Lionett thought, they should just ask the man themselves.

“Miss Lionett, you’re looking a mite pale, might I escort you to the ladies room?” Appearing at Beau’s elbow as if out of nowhere, Caleb Widogast placed his hand gently on the small of her back and led her away from the two men. “Was that as painful as it looked?”

“Dear Caleb, you have absolutely no idea,” Caleb and Beauregard had been friends since childhood, the two of them studying together at the academy until Beau had been removed from it due to her father’s rise in station. They’d remained in contact for years after, even when Beau’s family had relocated to Zadash to be amongst the high society. It has only been in the past year that Beauregard had seen her friend again, Caleb having graduated from the academy and found a place amongst the scholars of Zadash, his being reasonably wealthy and unmarried making him a very sought after bachelor. “I cannot thank you enough for saving me from those two.”

“My dear, I saved you because watching them attempt to converse with you while you were not paying attention was bringing me immense amounts of stress,” Retreating to the back of the ballroom, Beau and Caleb sank into a lounge side by side and observed the room before them. “I hate social engagements.”

“As do I, Caleb, as do I,” The two were aware of the eyes on them, the whispers that shifted around the ballroom as they sat together. Rumours of engagements were frequent and sometimes incredibly deadly but the two had decided not too long ago that rumours of them being involved with each other was the lesser of many other evils. The world that they lived in wasn’t kind to people such as Beauregard and Caleb, rigid in the idea that only men and women should be allowed to marry and have families; very much in opposition to Beau’s attraction to the fairer sex and Caleb’s infatuation with one of his fellow scholars, a man by the name of Essek Thelyss. “How fares your research?”

“It fares well. Trying at times but science is no easy discipline and I am blessed to have access to such knowledge as I do,”

“And how fares your other research?” Grinning as she took a long sip from her wine flute, Beauregard watched Caleb’s pale cheeks flare ever so slightly crimson at the question.

“It is...it is not faring as well as I had hoped. Mr Thelyss has a tendency to be oblivious to things right in front of his nose,”

“And what a fine nose it is, if I held any modicum of attraction to the scholarly type, I might even say that Mr Thelyss is overwhelmingly attractive,” Though Caleb knew that Beau was making a jest, that she probably wouldn’t even find Essek attractive if the scholar approached her in women’s clothes, his cheeks and ears still stained pink at her insinuation. Essek was very attractive though, his fingers long and graceful in everything from holding a tome to playing the pianoforte. The way that his dark eyes sparkled when he’d made a discovery and the gentle lilt of his voice sent Caleb’s heart racing. Unsure of Essek’s attraction, Caleb had made it a mission to discover if the beautiful scholar indeed held a preference for men, the only person aware of such a study being Beauregard.

“I know you are jesting, Beauregard, and I am not overly enthused by it,”

“Maybe if you ask Mr Thelyss nicely, he’ll remove the stick that appears to have made home in your backside, Caleb,”

“Beauregard, as always, your language is disgusting and has left me wishing that my ears did not work quite as well as they do,”

“How dare you say such horrid things to me, Mr Widogast?” In faux horror, Beau placed a gloved hand on her chest and gave her companion a wide, mocking grin. “I am a refined lady and I deserve your utmost respect.”

“Sadly, my dear, I have no respect left to give you as I’m not sure I have any that you deserve,” Smacking Caleb slightly, Beau laughed at his words and placed her now empty wine flute on the small table beside the lounge. The two sat in silence for a while, observing the crowd within the ballroom. Couples were dancing and there were various clusters of people conversing, their chatter making it hard to hear the gentle music being played by the string quartet in the corner of the room. “Beauregard, what was this engagement for? I seem to have forgotten.”

Beau released a light laugh at Caleb’s words, he never forgot anything so it appeared to her that he hadn’t deigned to read the invitation that had been sent to him and decided to attend this ball regardless.

“Duchess Lavorre is presenting her daughter at quarter past nine so as the girl may meet potential suitors,” Caleb’s eyes widened slightly as Beau spoke.

“I was unaware that the Duchess had a daughter,”

“Dear Caleb, everyone was unaware that the Duchess had a daughter until we received the invitations,”  
“How old is the girl?”

“A mere one-and-twenty,” Shaking his head, Caleb chuckled. There was no such thing as a ‘mere one-and-twenty’, most women were married and had borne their first child by one-and-twenty and it was quite unusual that she was being presented to suitors so late in her life. Beau was five-and-twenty and Caleb was aware that her being unmarried at such an age had caused a rift to form between the young woman and her parents.

“I’m astonished that the Duchess was able to keep the girl from the world for so many years,”

“You are one of many. Duchess Lavorre is a spectacularly beautiful woman but she has not ever married, not publicly anyway, and, I must admit, that I was quite shaken to learn that she’d sired a daughter at all,”

“Are you, perhaps, interested in the Duchess, Beauregard?” Caleb’s smile was coy.

“As I have already said, she is a spectacularly beautiful woman and I was not so much shaken by her having had a child but that she held an attraction to men,” As Beau finished her sentence, her voice got lower until it was at a pitch that only Caleb could hear. Beau didn’t want to tarnish the Duchess’s reputation but she wanted her own deviant attraction to remain between herself and Caleb.

“Yes, having been unmarried as she is it would make sense that she held no desire for men but this is quite the revelation. You said that the Duchess was showing her daughter at quarter past nine?” Beau nodded as Caleb pulled his pocketwatch free from his coat and inspected it. “Well, the girl should be shown in approximately five minutes. Would you like to move toward the stairs with me so we may get a better look at her?”

“Indeed I would, Mr Widogast,” Standing, Caleb offered his arm to Beau, who took it and got unsteadily to her feet. Cursing under her breath at her shoes, she allowed Caleb to lead her around the outskirts of the ballroom toward the stairs. A crowd had already begun to gather, anticipating the arrival of the Duchess and her daughter, but was still sparse enough to allow Caleb and Beau to push toward the front to be closer to the base of the stairs. “If she is even half as beautiful as her mother, she shall be twice as beautiful as most of the women in this room.”

“Watch your words, Miss Lionett, you wouldn’t want to offend someone,” Caleb’s eyes reflected his warning, he knew his friend well enough that she had been restraining herself from saying each scathing phrase that came to her mind all night and now that she was in his company she felt comfortable enough to air her discontent. Once they were away from this crowd, Caleb would have no qualms with listening to Beau complaining about the people she’d met but right now, it wasn’t the best idea.

“My sincerest apologies, Mr Widogast,” Acknowledging the unsaid words between them, Beau met Caleb’s eyes with a promise to insult the entire population of the ballroom once they were no longer in the thick of it.

The chatter began to die down as the string quartet changed the melody they were playing, the music no longer meant for dancing to but announce the arrival of the Duchess. Despite the music, Beau could hear the sweep of heavy, beaded fabric against the marble floors of the level above and could feel her blood pumping in her neck. On the few occasions she’d seen the Duchess, Beau had been so taken aback by her beauty that she’d had to excuse herself to the powder room to cool herself down and as the anticipation of seeing the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth rose, Beau could feel that same heat rushing to her cheeks and between her legs. Appearing at the top of the stairs, a page dressed in the livery of the Lavorre family cleared his throat to grasp the attention of the already silent crowd below.

“Presenting the Duchess Marion Lavorre of Nicodranas,” Stepping out of the centre of the stairs, the page swept into a low bow as Marion Lavorre appeared. Resplendent in a deep, luxurious purple gown accented with glass beads, her hair left free in loose ringlets around her heart shaped face and glittering silver jewellery wreathing her onyx hued horns, Marion smiled serenely at the crowd before her as she raised her ungloved hands, the deep ruby of her skin so etherial in nature.

“Welcome, my guests,” Marion’s voice was beautifully accented, soft and deep and sweet like dark honey. Beau was mesmerised by every aspect of the Duchess, from the light catching her deep crimson hair to the way her gown offset the bright, exotic hue of her skin. “It is my honour to present to you, my beloved daughter, Jester.”

Raising her hand slightly and looking off to her left, every pair of eyes in the ballroom followed Marion’s gaze as Jester appeared. Clothed in a gown of soft pink, Jester’s dark hair was cut short and bounced around her round, angelic face as she moved. The deep sapphire blue of her skin contrasted with the pink of her dress, the sleeves cutting across her chest to reveal her collarbone and stretching down to her wrists before looping over her middle finger; the skirts were wide and held away from her incredibly slim waist by layers upon layers of champagne coloured tulle that peeked out from beneath the pale pink over skirt with each step the young woman took. A small circlet of sapphires glinted atop her head as the lights in the ballroom caught the silvery jewellery, designed differently to her mother’s, that dangled from her curving horns. Beau felt her jaw drop to the floor as Jester moved to stand beside her mother and look over the crowd with a broad, gentle smile. Marion was stunning but she paled in comparison to her daughter, the sparkle of the younger Lavorre woman’s eyes igniting something in Beau’s chest that she hadn’t felt before.

As Jester’s gaze moved across the room, seemingly meeting the eyes of every guest before her, she met a set of wide brown eyes that looked so astonished that she couldn’t help but observe the person they belonged to. The woman was dressed in deep blue, offsetting the caramel tone of her skin, and her surprised features were incredibly striking. Her nose was long, her eyes round but not in a way that could describe them as being sweet, her lips were full but appeared as though they’d spent many hours being thinned out of annoyance; there was something about this woman that made Jester yearn to know her.


	2. So Oily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Sharpe is still gross no matter what AU he's in. Can't wait to add Taint Icky-Thong in the future *shudders*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter cause I'm worn out from exams but I have delivered a second chapter!! Third is coming soon!

All eyes were on her, just as Jester liked them to be. She liked the attention, she liked the feeling of being admired and revered and envied; or, she had always expected that she would. Having been her mother’s little secret since the moment of her conception to the moment of her debut had meant that Jester’s ability to float freely amongst people who would shower her with the attention she desired had been nonexistent. Her mother and her tutor had attempted to provide her with the attention she so craved but it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t what she wanted. Descending the stairs, hand gently sliding down the bannister as she smiled demurely out upon the gathered crowd, Jester drank in the feel of their eyes on her face and her body like one might drink in the taste of the finest of wines. There was one pair of eyes that she felt more strongly than others, even once she was dwarfed by the menagerie of guests her mother had invited along for her debut. 

The crowd parted around her as the voluminous skirts of her dress whispered against the marble floor, sweeping into a delicate curtsey, Jester felt one of her mother’s radiant, adoring smiles warm the back of her head. Rising slowly, carefully, Jester waited for a moment before a man approached her and swept into a bow of his own, offering a weathered hand to her. Remembering the lessons she’d taken with her tutor, Artagan, Jester placed her hand daintily in his and allowed the man to sweep her into the middle of the room as the string quartet began to play a smooth waltz. One, two, three...one, two, three...one, two, three, Jester counted the steps in her head as the dance began.

“I believe that I have not given you my name,” As the man spoke for the first time, Jester decided that she didn’t like him. His voice was pompous and accented as though he enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice for hours on end, which she was soon sincerely convinced that he did because he would not shut up. “I am Lord Robert Sharpe, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Oh...um, I’m delighted to meet you, Lord Sharpe,” Unsure of what to say, Jester scrambled for words as she felt Lord Sharpe’s hand slide lower down her back, his fingers resting a mere inch above her backside. She knew that the placement of his hands was indecent but she wasn’t sure how to address it as of yet.

“I know, I assume that your mother has mentioned me?” His voice grated against the inside of Jester’s head, the intonation of his voice setting her teeth on end and scraping her nerves raw.   
“Um...no, no, sir, she has not,” Lord Sharpe’s face became hard and unkind for a brief moment, his dark eyes boring holes into Jester’s as he swept her rather forcefully across the floor. Other couples had joined them on the dancefloor, admiring Jester’s dress and poise, but none of them seemed even remotely interested in how Jester was beginning to shrink away from her partner. 

“That is quite shocking,” His smile was disturbingly forced, his teeth too white against his dark skin and his hair too oily under the flickering glass chandelier hanging above them. As they continued to dance, Jester’s mind began to compare the oiliness of Lord Sharpe’s hair to other, rather disgusting oils she had witnessed in the past. By the time she reached the pig’s fat her mother’s chef used to grease the cooking pans, Jester was barely able to hold back her laughter. “What are you laughing at?”

“It is nothing, sir, a mere...a mere jest I recalled a servant making in the past,” Attempting to meet his eyes, Jester’s gaze slid directly to Lord Sharpe’s hair again and another giggle bubbled past her lips. He was growing angry, his jaw set into a stiff clench as his lips began to curl in anger. 

“Mademoiselle Lavorre, your chignon is coming loose, may I take you to the powder room and repin it for you?” The woman in the blue dress that Jester had seen before was now standing directly beside Lord Sharpe, her jaw as set and decided as his was and her eyes a dark, steely brown that promised trouble if Lord Sharpe did not release Jester immediately. She was even more striking up close, her skin faintly freckled and tanned as though she spent as much time outside as she possibly could. The end of her nose was slightly upturned but also ever so gently rounded, her cupid’s bow deep and pronounced at the crest of her top lip. 

“I-I do not see-,” Before Lord Sharpe had finished his sentence, the woman’s eyes met his with the coldest glare Jester had ever seen anyone muster, the weight of it sending a shiver down her spine despite it not having been directed upon her.

“Lord Sharpe, as you are not a lady, I will excuse your lack of insight regarding Mademoiselle Lavorre’s hair but if she does not come with me immediately so as I may fix it, you will find yourself under the wrath of the Duchess for allowing her daughter to look like a common pauper at her debut. I am quite sure your businesses would not benefit from your losing the Duchess’ favour, Robert?” At the mention of his businesses, Lord Sharpe released Jester immediately and swept her a low, insincere bow before shooting the woman a glare and stomping away from the dancefloor. 

Looping Jester’s arm through hers, Beauregard pulled her away from the dance floor toward the back of the room. A man with long, auburn hair lounged on a small velvet couch nursing a small glass of scotch in his left hand, his right hanging over the side of the chair as he tapped the side in time to the music. 

“Have you adopted someone, Beauregard?” The man looked up at the two women with slightly clouded eyes, the few minutes that had passed since Jester’s debut and Beau’s retrieval of her having allowed the alcohol already in his system to lull him into a vague drunkenness. “Oh, yo-you adopted the Duchess’ daughter.”

Standing on unsteady feet, the man swept Jester a bow and took her offered hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Collapsing back down into the couch, he took a long sip of the scotch in his hand and swirled the amber liquid around in the glass slightly as he pulled it away from his lips. 

“I saved her as you saved me, Caleb,” The woman’s voice was deep, slightly rough but interesting and infused with an accent Jester didn’t recognise, not like the accent of the man. Jester knew that he was Zemnian from his appearance alone but his accent had definitely confirmed that, the woman didn’t sound Zemnian though and the few words she had said had Jester wanting to know exactly where she hailed from. “Lord Sharpe had abducted her for a dance.”

The man, Caleb, shuddered. “Lord Sharpe is an incredibly oily man,”

A smile broke across Jester’s face immediately at Caleb’s words. 

“His hair reminds me of the pig’s fat my mother’s chef uses to grease his pans,” As the words left Jester’s lips, Caleb and Beauregard both released a peal of laughter. She liked these people immediately. The only person who had understood Jester’s desire to make light of every situation she encountered was her tutor, Artagan, who had actively encouraged the various ways in which Jester had tormented the poor staff that took care of her immaculate home. Artagan had told Jester that true friends were the ones who understood that being fiendish was as important as being reverent and to never accept the friendship of someone who could not take even the slightest of jests. 

“My god, it does!” Craning her neck slightly, Beau looked over her shoulder toward Lord Sharpe and released another snort of laughter. “I’m quite sure that, if we were to wring the oil free from Lord Sharpe’s hair, we needn’t have to purchase oil for the hinges or the carriage wheels for quite some time.”

“He seems to have an unlimited supply of that oil, Beauregard, you mightn’t even need to wring him, just merely cut a lock of his hair away from his head and swipe it against whatever you wish to oil an, voila, your job is complete,” Caleb’s cheeks had begun to tint crimson, the colour creeping up his neck and staining the tips of his ears and nose. Glancing down for a moment, Jester noticed that her hand was still looped through Beauregard’s elbow, resting against the pretty cobalt fabric stretching down to the woman’s wrists. As if noticing it too, Beau released Jester’s arm and led her toward a small plush chair beside the couch before collapsing into the couch beside Caleb.  
~~~~~~~~~~~

Hands braced on her stomach as Nott, her maid, untied the laces of her corset, Jester told her mother about her evening in glowing tones. She’d danced with several men, Beauregard making sure that ones like Lord Sharpe stayed as far away from the young woman as possible with nothing more than a poison tipped glare and a single, raised brow. In the moments when she hadn’t been dancing, Jester had been in the company of Beauregard and Caleb, the latter slowly becoming more and more incoherent as the hours dragged on while the passage of time only made the former more bold. She really hadn’t learnt much about Beauregard and Caleb this evening, completely unaware of Beauregard’s last name and station and whether or not Caleb should actually have been in attendance. Though she had learnt that the two were very good friends and the discovery had made her unusually jealous, they’d known each other since they were children from what she’d learnt and Jester would be lying if she said that she did not envy their close relationship. 

“I am very happy that you have made friends, my little sapphire. This...Beauregard...is that her family name?” Hands folded in her lap as she sat on the edge of Jester’s bed in a black, silken nightgown, Marion Lavorre met her daughter’s gaze through the mirror in front of Jester.

“You know, Mama, I don’t actually know,” Brow furrowing, Jester tried to recall whether Caleb or Beau had mentioned their surnames. Coming up short, Jester bit her lip and groaned slightly as Nott pulled the strings of the corset rather roughly to loosen them. “Nott! Please be careful.”

“I’m tryin’, there’s just so much string,” Muttering under her breath, the goblin woman squinted at the laces as she clumsily tried to untie them. As bad as she was at dressing both Marion and Jester, Nott was remarkably good at keeping things in order. She’d terrified half the staff on her first day to the point where they would obey her commands implicitly, the ability to keep everyone in line having her promoted to the head maid very quickly. For as long as Jester had known Nott, she couldn’t think of a single time when the tiny goblin woman was not completely, thoroughly inebriated. Maybe it was the near constant state of drunkenness that had scared the staff into obeying her every word, maybe it was the fact that the small woman was unnervingly adept with knives, crossbows and unpicking locks with hair pins but either way, Nott always completed her tasks in surprisingly good form. 

“Jester, my darling, I desired for you to choose a ladies companion from the women here tonight and it is quite hard to send a request to the lady if you have not learnt her family name,”

“I know, Mama, I know,” Jester did know. She should’ve asked Beau for her last name at some point but the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. “But I would definitely like Miss Beauregard to become my companion. She was a joy to be in the company of and I believe her to be a woman of level head, which is a trait I sadly lack and may need to learn in the future.”

“The guest list for tonight was rather long, my darling, but I will have it brought to my chambers so that I may find your Miss Beauregard’s name and request her for tea tomorrow afternoon,”

The corset fell free from Jester’s abdomen, her breathing eased considerably as she pulled her hand away from the stomach and allowed Nott to spirit the corset away to be cleaned for its next use. 

“Thank you, Mama,” Turning away from the mirror, Jester crossed her room still clad in her small-clothes. A band covering her rather buxom breasts and tied at the middle of her back tightly to keep them from pushing free over the crest of the corset. The pale purple undershorts contrasting against the deep blue of her legs. Marion opened her arms wide to her daughter, Jester falling into them with a tired sigh. “I had quite a lot of fun tonight.”

“I know you did, my darling, you were practically sparkling,” Marion pressed a kiss to the crown of Jester’s head, the jewellery that had adorned Jester’s curling horns having been carefully removed by Nott an hour ago and the loose curls brushed free and pulled into short, loose plaits on either side of Jester’s head. “We shall definitely request that seamstress’ services again, you looked positively radiant and I have found myself rather fond of the cut of your gown.”

“You looked beautiful too, Mama,”

“I know, my little sapphire, but you were glorious!” Pressing another kiss to Jester’s head, Marion pulled her daughter closer against her chest. “It is so strange to me how much you have grown but each day I grow more proud of you.”

Smiling broadly, Jester allowed her mother to pull the ribbons free from her plaits and begin to replait them as she once had when Jester was a much smaller, much younger child.


	3. A Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia and misogyny
> 
> This is a regency AU and there was a lot of homophobia and misogyny so please read at your own risk if you're not down for some era appropriate prejudice

“No, Father,” Sitting at the wooden dining table, Beauregard massaged her forehead with her thumb and index fingers. Yet again, Thereaux had brought up the topic of Beau marrying and, as expected, had not liked the response he had received from his daughter. 

“Beauregard, your foolishness never ceases to astound me,” Pressing his knuckles into his eyes, Theroux Lionett spoke with an air of extreme exasperation. “You are five-and-twenty and you are unmarried, your insolence has driven many a suitor away and it horrifies me to think that you will never find your place in society. Your mother and I were married before she had reached twenty, you know?”

“Yes, Father,” This conversation seemed to happen every morning. Beau would enter the dining room to her father complaining about her lack of suitors, an argument would ensue and she would be left stomaching the lecture that came with her resistance to her father’s grand scheme. “I am quite aware,” She spoke through gritted teeth and a cold, insincere smile. “But I have made it quite clear that I have absolutely no interest in marrying someone whose only value to me is their station or their wealth. I also have no intention of marrying someone who cannot hold a decent conversation surrounding politics, the arts, horse riding, and literature.”

“Daughter, you must understand that no man desires to discuss literature or, heavens forbid, politics with you. You are a woman,” Heat flared in Beau’s cheeks. She was always being told what she couldn’t do because she was a woman. Her distinct lack of male genitalia was apparently the leading reason why she felt so utterly powerless from the moment she woke in the morning to the moment she fell asleep.

“Caleb has no qualms discussing politics or literature with me and I am rather certain that he is not a woman,” Thereaux released a tense sigh and slumped into his chair with thinned lips.

“Mr Widogast is a very strange man, Beauregard, and there is little wonder as to why he is unmarried,”

“Please, dear Father, enlighten me as to why you believe my dearest friend would not marry,” Beau wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to hear what her father’s answer would be. She knew of Caleb’s attraction to Mr Essek Thelyss, a pit forming in her stomach that threatened to evaporate the toast she’s stomached when this argument began as she pondered the possibility of others knowing of Caleb’s transient desires. Should word begin to circulate of Caleb and Mr Thelyss, both would be shunned from society and forced to leave the research facility they both loved so very much. It would also be likely that they would be stoned to death as sodomy was a crime punishable by such.

“I believe that he would not marry because he is more focused on his studies than on his bloodline. That makes him a strange man. What man does not feel the desire to have intercourse?”

Face suddenly scrunching up at her father’s words, Beau felt the slightest sting of bile in her throat. She didn’t want to discuss intercourse with her father, in very fact, she didn’t want to discuss intercourse with anyone. Yes, Caleb had not lain with a woman, had not felt the carnal pleasures that came with such an intimate interaction but the last woman he had desired so had left him wounded in places the eye could not see. He did feel the desire, Beauregard knew that much, but the desire to have intercourse with a woman was not something Caleb had addressed, his attentions focused elsewhere. 

“I am quite sure he does feel the desire, Father, but it is not your place to poke into Caleb’s private life,”

Theroux looked over his daughter with hard, calculating eyes, the same shade of brown as Beauregard but unable to hold any of the joyful mirth that his daughter displayed on such few occasions. 

“Beauregard, have you possibly developed an attraction to Mr Widogast?” And there the question was, lingering in the air between father and daughter like a cloud of ash. Beau couldn’t think of anything more repugnant than developing an attraction to Caleb, he was just too...too Caleb. Though there was nothing wrong with Caleb, he wasn’t the type of person Beauregard found herself drawn to and the main reason why she felt no attraction toward him was because he was a man.

“No, Father,” Slumping back in her chair, Beau restrained herself from crossing her legs beneath her morning dress. Dairon said that crossing her legs and not her ankles was unsightly and the ruckus she caused when she accidentally kicked the table was ghastly. “He is merely my dearest and closest friend.”

“Men and women cannot maintain friendships between them, Daughter. The man shall begin to desire things of the woman that she shall feel inclined to give him and once she has given them, she will no longer be desirable for marriage,”

“Are you suggesting that Caleb, whom you are aware has not had intercourse, would request of me such a thing merely because we are friends?” 

“I am certainly not suggesting otherwise,”

Rubbing her hand over the side of her face, Beau clenched and unclenched her jaw angrily. She wanted to kick something, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and smash every beautiful porcelain plate on the table before her but she knew that doing so wouldn’t shut her father up and it certainly wouldn’t take back the words that now roiled in her mind like a viscous poison. Glaring at each other, Beauregard and her father sat in silence as they continued their breakfast.

“Lord Lionett, Miss Lionett,” A servant appeared in the doorway, dropping into a smooth bow toward the lord of the house and his daughter, dutifully ignoring the tension of the room as he raised back into a standing position. “A letter had arrived for Miss Lionett from the Duchess.”

Eyes snapping away from the servant, Theroux and Beauregard’s gazes met. Where Beau’s was confused and slightly worried, Theroux’s was angry and judgemental.

“What have you done, Beauregard?” Struggling to keep his voice level, Theroux held his hand out for the servant to drop the letter into. Glancing between the lord and his daughter, the servant deposited the letter into Theroux’s hand, swept into another bow and left the room as quickly as he possibly could. Using a clean butter knife to pry off the wax seal, Theroux freed the letter from the envelope without taking his eyes off his daughter and unfolded it. “Whatever you have done to anger the Duchess will be on your head and not mine.”

“Why, dear Father, do you immediately assume that I have caused trouble?”

“Because you often have and the last letter such as this you received was demanding that you never set foot on the Bombauch estate so long as you live,” Trying to hide her smile at the mention of the Bombauch’s, Beau sank down into her chair slightly further and allowed her father to read the letter, his lips mouthing the words silently as his eyes darted back and forth across the page. “Daughter, it appears you have made quite the impression.”

Wary of the change in her father’s tone and demeanour, Beau regarded him with emotionless eyes. 

“The Duchess and her daughter have requested you for tea this afternoon to discuss the possibility of you becoming Miss Lavorre’s companion,” Handing the letter across the table to Beauregard, Theroux’s face settled into a satisfied, wolfish smile. “Oh, the suitors you shall meet, dear Daughter, the endless possibilities of families you could marry into.”

Stunned as she read through the letter herself, the ink on the page curved in a beautiful, elegant script, Beau ignored her father’s words as she tried to grasp the weight of what this letter meant. She’d saved Jester from Lord Sharpe last night and brought the poor girl to converse with herself and Caleb but there had been so many others that Jester had interacted with over the night that Beau hadn’t thought herself to be memorable. Jester had returned to Caleb and Beauregard after each dance, joking with them and enjoying the conversation, but she had always been swept away for another dance or to meet another woman or couple or whomever desired her attentions. She, Beauregard Lionett, was being requested to tea with the Duchess because her daughter had found her companionable; the renegade child of Theroux Lionett was going to sit to tea with one of the most powerful women in Wildemount.

~~~~~~~

Pulling on her riding gloves, Beau blew a lock of hair away from her face with an angry huff. Her mother and father had kept insisting that she take the carriage but Beau was adamant that she was going to ride to the Duchess’ estate and take tea in her riding clothes. No matter the threats that Theroux had made or the pleas that had left her mother’s lips, Beauregard could not be swayed to sit in the stuffy Lionett carriage decked in silks and frills and all the ornaments she hated for a journey that only took an hour on horseback. She also needed to clear her mind before she sat to tea with the Duchess and her daughter, knowing that her words would not flow in the presence of such beautiful, powerful women unless she had first felt the whip of the wind against her cheeks and the stride of her gelding between her thighs. 

“Here he is, Miss Lionett, all brushed for you. I haven’t saddled him yet though,” Walking out of the barn with Beau’s gelding was her preferred stablehand and friend, Fjord. The half-orc’s skin varying hues of green peppered with scars, his hair was dark and shaven close to his skull, his tusked teeth poking ever so slightly over his lip as he gave her a closed lipped smile. “I know how you like saddling him.”

“Fjord, my friend, if it were not for you I feel as though my sanity would have waned long ago,” Taking the reins from Fjord’s outstretched hand, Beau rubbed her palm against the bridge of her steed’s nose gently, earning an appreciative whinny from the beast. “Has dear Thaddeus caused any trouble?”

“Not lately, my lady, but he is not overly fond of the new mare your father has had brought in,” Wiping his hands on his pants before giving Thaddeus a firm, gentle pat on the flank, Fjord shrugged. “Your father demanded that the mare be given Thaddeus’ stable and he be moved to a smaller one.”

“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound very nice at all, Thaddeus,” Still stroking the long bridge of the horse’s nose, Beauregard spoke soothingly to her beloved animal. “How about you and I go for a ride and we leave that nasty stable-stealing mare behind?”

Almost as if he understood her, Thaddeus released a short huff and nudged his head against Beauregard’s shoulder. Handing the reins back to Fjord, Beau retrieved her saddle from the stand within the stable as well as a deep blue horse blanket to stop any chafing that might occur from the saddle being placed upon Thaddeus’ back. Aware of what came next, Thaddeus stood still as Beauregard secured her saddle over the blanket on his back and checked the stability of the stirrups. Even though she had saddled her horse thousands of times, Fjord still checked the staddle for her to ensure no harm would come to Beau or Thaddeus once their ride began; Fjord always made sure to do his checks when Beau re-entered the stable to find her riding helmet and riding crop.

“Alright, I believe we are all set,” Checking over Thaddeus with her riding crop tucked beneath her armpit and pressed against her ribs, Beau tightened the strap of her helmet and raised her foot into one of the stirrups. Fjord hovering behind her to make sure she didn’t fall, Beau swung her leg up over the horse’s back and slipped her foot into the stirrup on the opposite side with little need to brace her hands against horse or saddle. Taking the reins in her hands, Beauregard gently stroked the column of Thaddeus’ neck, the coffee coloured gelding leaning into the affectionate caress. “I am unsure when I shall return, Fjord, if I am to return post-dusk, I will have a message sent to Mother and Father but also to you as Thaddeus’ safety is as important to me as my own. Upon my return, I desire to converse with you about the events that occur with the Duchess as you are the only friend I have within this estate.”

“It would be my pleasure to speak of your tea with the Duchess upon your return. I shall have the chef prepare some hot chocolate for you to enjoy as we speak,”

“Have him prepare some for you too, Fjord, I desire to speak to you as friends and equals, not as servant and mistress. Is that understood?” Grinning down at the stable hand, Beau raised her eyebrows with a cheeky glint in her eye.

Laughing, Fjord nodded his head. “It is understood, Miss Lionett, I shall have some lemon tarts prepared too and a bottle of brandy if we are to interact as equals,”

“Darling Fjord, your clairvoyance astounds me!” In faux shock, Beauregard gasped in joking horror. This interaction was one they’d had many times before, Fjord had never understood Beau’s desire to befriend him as he was a mere servant and she was a marriageable lady but he had seen the discontent that came with her life so he strove to provide her with a strong, grounded companion despite the inequality between them. He appreciated her company though, Beauregard had never treated him as anything other than an equal and had fought for his right to stay on as a stablehand when her father had decided to terminate his employment for no apparent reason. Fjord truly considered Beauregard Lionett his friend, as she considered him to be hers. “Now, I must be off if I am to reach the Duchess’ estate by two o’clock. It is an hours ride from here and I would much like to spend as much time as possible away from this wretched place.”

“I understand, my lady. Please stay safe,” Giving Beau a knowing look as she dug her heels into the horse’s sides to start him into a trot, Fjord crossed his tanned, scarred arms over his chest. “You are armed, yes?” Walking alongside Beau and Thaddeus as they approached the side gate of the Lionett estate, Fjord checked over Beau’s person for any sign of a weapon for which to defend herself.

“Yes, I am armed. I am not foolish enough to travel alone without some form of weapon, Fjord. I am aware of the bandits and thieves that like to hide around the estates and I can assure you that the likelihood of them getting even the slightest chance to rape me is incredibly low,”

“Please excuse my forwardness but where, exactly, are your weapons?” Still walking beside Beau and the horse, Fjord could feel the annoyance radiating off the young woman. He knew she hated all these questions and that she could certainly take care of herself but the time she thought she was comfortable enough to ride unarmed would be the time she was dragged from her horse, beaten and raped with any valuables upon her person whisked away to be sold. 

Sighing, Beau pulled a small dagger free from the inside of her left coat sleeve and showed it to Fjord briefly before slipping it back into its hiding place. Reaching for a small compartment built into the front of her saddle, Beau retrieved a small, very well hidden pistol and a canister of extra ammunition. Fjord hadn’t even been aware that the pistol was in the saddle, but he didn’t often need to ask if she was armed as the weaponry on her was quite visible. It was uncommon for a woman to be trained in swordplay, hawking, archery, and martial combat as Beauregard was but, as her family had risen the ranks of society, Theroux had paid for the best tutors to teach his only daughter how to defend herself. It was a well kept secret within the Lionett family that Beauregard was capable of snuffing out a life with little trouble, men did not want to marry a muscled woman who fought better than they did but Beau’s penchant for getting herself into trouble had driven Theroux to the point of needing his daughter to be able to fend off any would-be assailants. 

Beau liked to think that the training she had received and the practice she still diligently undertook calmed her mind and allowed her to navigate the intrigue of her family’s new position. The fact that Fjord knew about Beau’s abilities was pure coincidence, having accidentally stumbled upon her sitting atop Thaddeus’ bare back with a bow drawn and an arrow knocked, aiming for a target that she, as a human, should not have physically been able to see. When she’d released the arrow with naught but a whisper of breath, Fjord had watched in awe as it struck the middle of the wooden target with a resounding thud and a very distinct vibration. She’d known he was there the whole time and had left her knowledge to herself until she’d heard his awed gasp at her perfect aim. 

“You see, Fjord, I am not unarmed and I’m sure that you’re aware that I could probably do more damage with my bare fists than I could with this pistol,” Sliding the pistol and bullets back into the well hidden compartment of the saddle, Beau tugged on Thaddeus’ reins to slow him sightly. “I didn’t want to take my hunting rifle, my crossbow or my longbow as I am visiting the Duchess and I would rather not make a foul impression as a woman who hunts.”

“She will find out eventually, my lady, if it’s true that she desires you as her daughter’s companion,”

“Of that, I am very aware but she needn’t discover it today, Fjord,” Gesturing to her riding clothes, Beau wrapped the reins around her left hand tightly. “I will be presented to her in this and I do sincerely believe it will show just enough of the woman I am to aid in her decision as to whether or not I become her daughter’s companion. My hunting and my other such hobbies shall be kept to myself until such as time as I am certain that I am to be in the constant company of one Miss Jester Lavorre.”

Digging her heels into Thaddeus’ sides, Beau spurred the horse into a gallop directly out of the gates, leaving Fjord behind in a cloud of dust and dirt clods with his arms still crossed over his chest.

~~~~~~~

Beneath her helmet, Beau felt the carefully braided strands of her hair threaten to slide free from the tight coil at the base of her skull. What pieces had already come loose whipped around her face as she spurred Thaddeus on through the forested path that wove between the various estates of upper-Zadash. Miles away, the peasants lived in ramshackle houses that were piled together on the sides of badly cobbled roads, selling what wares they could to feed their starving families but here, everything was spread wide and endless. From the top of her house, Beau couldn’t see even the faintest hint of her neighbour’s properties, their lands divided by dense, lush forests that held boundless secrets. The forest was shared between the denizens of upper-Zadash, a prime hunting ground and a secure place for the occasional debauch or tryst; when there had been talk of the forest being cut down to make room for another estate, the nobility had launched an uproar that concluded with the forest remaining and the estate being built somewhere else. 

The smell of leaves and damp earth soothed Beau’s senses and lulled her soul into a wondrous calm. Nothing seemed to temper Beauregard’s edges like the trees racing past her. Leaping over a fallen tree, Thaddeus neighed loudly, as if to mimic the wild ecstasy that was thrumming in Beauregard’s veins at the freedom that riding brought her. Here she was in control. Here she made her own choices and had not a single man to disparage or control them. Each thud of Thaddeus’ hooves against the ground sent spikes of joy through Beau’s entire body and allowed a melody, a special melody for Beau’s ears and heart alone to hear, to dance between the leaves and branches of the woods around her.

She’d ridden past the Duchess’ estate many times, the path through the forest one she knew well; she had no fear of losing her path. Atop Thaddeus, Beauregard Lionett was a tempest that would yield to the whims of no man, no king or queen or empress. She was a force that could quell tides and make mountains move out of her path; or that’s what she felt like she was in the moments when she was alone and free from the heavy shackles of her father.


End file.
